


The Shrine of Such Pure Joys

by Zivitz



Series: To Make A Home [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Animals, Babies, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29741667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivitz/pseuds/Zivitz
Summary: Marcus and Arthur visit the farm; Arthur meets a new friend and makes some connections.
Relationships: Abby Griffin & Original Character(s), Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Marcus Kane & Original Character(s)
Series: To Make A Home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090235
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	The Shrine of Such Pure Joys

**Author's Note:**

> I am eternally grateful to Kelly for looking this over, listening to me whine, holding my hand, being my cheerleader, and in general being the most awesome friend ever. Thank you. <3
> 
> As usual, « » denotes Trig, " " is English.

The breeze was warm and the sun was bright as Marcus made his way slowly- so very very slowly- down the path that led to the barns. He was used to taking large strides wherever he went, always moving with a purpose- there were people to see and projects to check in on and things to inspect. But today he had no particular destination, no burning need to be anywhere in particular. 

And it was nice.

Arthur walked beside him along the well worn dirt path, stopping every few steps to pick up a rock or point at a bird. Marcus stopped alongside him, narrating their journey and naming things every time the boy lifted something toward him. Rocks, clumps of dirt, bits of grass, flowers, more rocks- he was excited by everything, wanted to share everything with Marcus and it made his heart thump in his chest to see the look of utter trust on this child’s face.  _ His _ child’s face, though it was still hard to believe.

It was early May and with the weather improving, Abby had suggested they each take a child for a few hours. Rosalie was having her morning nap in Medical while Abby finished some charts, and later they would meet for lunch under the big tree by the lake. She’d sent them off freshly fed and, in Arthur’s case, diapered, standing by the door with Rosalie against her shoulder and it was hard to believe that this was their life now.

He felt a tug at his pant leg and looked down. «Rock,» he said automatically as Arthur lifted a pebble up to him. The boy nodded, and tucked it into one of the side pockets on Marcus’s trousers. He'd never imagined it was possible to have conversations with children this young, but then Arthur had appeared in his life. Quick witted and easygoing, he soon taught Marcus that verbal language was only one form of communication. At first he'd felt ridiculous talking to the boy as if he could understand, before realizing that many times he  _ could _ and  _ did _ . When he mentioned this to Abby, she'd just laughed at him. "Welcome to parenthood."

«Look, we're almost to the barn,» he said, pointing at the building ahead of them. Arthur looked up from where he squatted by a patch of grass. 

"Moo?"

«Yes, we’re going to see some cows.» Farms, and particularly cows, were a major preoccupation these days. 

«Cow.»

Marcus’s heart soared. «That’s right, cow!» The odds he would repeat the word at any point were slim, Marcus was learning, but every word he emulated was one more step toward not having to divine what the boy needed at any given moment. And that was worth celebrating. 

There was a lot to celebrate, he was finding, when seeing the world through the eyes of your child. 

Arthur came toward him with his index finger extended, and Marcus crouched low to inspect whatever wound- real or imagined- he was about to be shown. The boy frowned at his empty hand as he approached, stopping in front of Marcus and looking at both sides of his hand, then on the ground. He frowned again, but Marcus spied something on his shoulder and grinned.

Arthur’s gaze followed his hand as he reached for the boy’s shoulder. He cupped his hand around the insect, then brought it to his son’s face. «Is this what you were looking for?»

Brown curls bobbed as a smile spread across his face. He reached into Marcus’s hand to invite the little bug onto his finger. 

Marcus hesitated. «I’m not sure what this is called in Trigedasleng. We’ll have to ask Lincoln.»

Arthur’s head popped up and he looked around. Marcus smiled.

«No, he’s not here. We’ll ask later. In English this is a “ladybug”.» 

“Lay-buh,” he repeated, watching the insect climb up his arm. 

“Yes, ladybug.” 

Arthur watched with an intensity that made Marcus’s heart swell. He was so clever, this boy. So sweet and gentle and loving. He’d come to love him so much in such a short time, and where at first peoples’ fear of Azgeda made him angry, now he was at least a little thankful for their ignorance. Without it, he wouldn’t be kneeling in the dirt on a sunny morning watching his son. His life could have been so different. Easier in many ways, yes, but also emptier. 

When at last the ladybug spread its wings and flew away, Arthur waved his hand in farewell long after it had left his sight. Then he turned back to Marcus. “Moo?”

Marcus threw his head back in laughter. «Yes, we’ll go see the animals now.» 

He groaned slightly as he stood up, chuckling as Arthur leaned his own hands against his backside and pushed, the way Marcus did to him when he was trying to climb the couch in their quarters. “I don’t think I’m so old I need help quite yet,” he mumbled to himself as he dusted the knees of his trousers.

Beside him, Arthur copied his movements, patting at the dustless knees of his overalls. 

«Ready?» he asked, and the boy reached his hand up. Marcus offered his own, and Arthur wrapped his hand around one large index finger. One reaching high and the other slightly stooped, the two made their way up the lane toward the barnyard.

Arthur became more and more animated as they approached the barns, finally releasing Marcus’s finger to run ahead to the fence that separated the horse pasture from the road. He stuck his little hand between the wooden boards and pointed at the nearest animals, a large bay and her foal. He turned back to Marcus. “Baby?”

«Yes, that’s a baby horse and its mama. What does a horse say?»

“Neee!” the boy answered, stomping his feet for effect. Marcus laughed.

«Close enough. Do you want to see if they’ll come say hello?» He picked some grass they hadn’t been able to reach on the far side of the fence and whistled lightly at the mare. Her head jerked up and her ears twitched as she scanned her surroundings for danger. Marcus whistled again and she looked toward him and his offering, slowly sauntering over with her foal following close behind. 

As she approached, the look on Arthur’s face began to change from wonder to fear. He staggered back from the fence wide-eyed, and hid behind Marcus’s legs. «Don’t be afraid,» he said to the boy and the horse at once, offering his handful of grass. Once the horse had taken it, he wiped his hand on his leg and prised Arthur’s hands off his trousers. 

«She won’t hurt you. She’s just big,» he said, lifting the boy to his hip so that he could see the horse face to face. «See? We just need to be gentle.» Marcus reached out a hand and gingerly placed it on the horse’s face, slowly moving his hand up and down as she got used to him. When he looked down at Arthur, his eyes were blown wide and he was leaning forward slightly. He took the boy’s arm and stepped closer to the fence. The horse, finished with her snack, began to lean over the fence toward Marcus, seeing if he had any more treats. While she was distracted with his pockets, he helped Arthur put his hand on her head. Then she moved to the other pocket, and Arthur nearly jumped out of his arms with surprise. He began to shake his head. “No,” he said, using his hands to show ‘all done’.

Marcus chuckled slightly, «That’s okay, I think she’s mostly done anyway.» He used his other hand to push the horse away as he stepped back. “Sorry, girl, that’s all for now.” The horse regarded him for a moment, then swished her tail and backed away from the fence, making for the water trough. Her foal kicked up its legs and ran ahead, and Arthur waved his goodbye. 

«That was a nice visit. Should we see what else we can find?»

Arthur nodded and began to shimmy his legs, signaling he wanted down. Marcus put him back on the ground and he ran up toward the next pasture.

The next pasture turned out to be goats, who bleated and stuck their heads through the fence as far as they could, grabbing bits of clothing and nibbling at fingers as Arthur laughed at all of the attention. The kids were the most curious, pawing and nibbling as the boy petted them through the fence; the adults, having found no treats being offered, had lost interest rather quickly. Marcus sat in the grass and pet the ones who came near, finding himself enjoying this quiet moment where no one needed his attention but one, who kept looking at him for reassurance and to share his joy. Eventually the kids got hungry for more than toddler fingers and returned to their pasture; some found their mothers and suckled, while others played around and through the adults, jumping and climbing and sprinting from one place to another. Arthur climbed into his lap then, and put his head back against Marcus’s chest as he watched them. He pointed at a kid and its mother, one rather aggressively trying to get at its meal while the other stood placidly and chewed her cud. 

“Mama?” he asked.

«That’s his mama,» he confirmed, and Arthur nodded. Marcus ran his hand over his son’s head, brushing the curls away from his face and peeking down at him. He was watching the scene in front of him with a slight furrow in his brow, and Marcus wondered what was going on in that little head. He was clearly doing some thinking, and Marcus hoped it wouldn’t end with a screaming meltdown about  _ his _ Mama- those had become fewer and farther between over the last eight weeks as he seemed to become used to the idea that Mama wasn’t going to be around any more. He still cried for her in the night occasionally but had slowly stopped the inconsolable sobbing when Abby appeared, instead allowing her to comfort him. He still didn’t have a name for her, and though Marcus knew it was causing the deepest of aches in Abby, they were allowing him time to grieve in his own way.

The shuffle of boots coming down the little road brought Marcus out of his thoughts. The man had a pitchfork in one hand and muck up to his shins, and stopped about twenty feet away.

“Can I help you?” he called.

“We’re just visiting,” Marcus explained, shifting Arthur off his lap so he could stand and brush himself off. He moved into the road with some difficulty, as Arthur had wrapped one arm around his knee and was staring at the farmhand.

“Oh, Chancellor! I didn’t know- I mean, I-”

Marcus smiled. “It’s okay, this isn’t an official visit. Someone just likes farm animals and it’s a nice day, so I thought-”

The man’s face cleared. “Of course. I see you’ve met the goats.”

“And one of the horses,” Marcus added. 

“Well it’s just me cleaning out the stalls right now, but I can show you the chicks and ducklings, and anything else you might want to see.”

“Moo,” said Arthur, and both men laughed. Marcus picked him up and propped him on his left hip, coming forward with his hand out to the other man. 

“Marcus,” he said, and nodded at the boy. “And this is my son, Arthur.” The words tasted strange and sweet on his tongue.

The other man took his hand in a firm grip. “Dan,” he said.

“Nice to meet you. Farm station?”

“Mecha, actually, but spring is a busy time of year so I like to lend a hand when I can.” He gestured to his filthy garb. “Believe it or not, it’s kind of meditative.”

Marcus cocked his head and pursed his lips. “I can see that. I spend far too much time cooped up inside, myself. Maybe I should take a page out of your book.”

The other man laughed nervously. “I’m not sure the missus would like that too much, sir, it’s a pretty smelly job.”

Marcus tried to suppress a smile at the thought of what Abby would say if she heard someone call her his ‘missus’ and was beginning to fail when Arthur began patting at his chest. “Papa,” he said earnestly, and Marcus turned to him, saved.

«Yes, child.»

“Moo?”

“Let me guess,” said Dan, not bothering to suppress a smile, “we like cows.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “And how. I know they’re usually out to pasture this time of day but I was hoping there might be a few lingering nearby.”

“There’s a few in the yard over there,” the other man said, waving vaguely towards the next building over, “who are getting ready to calf any time now.” He looked at Arthur and spoke to him directly, “Should we see some chickens and ducks first?”

Arthur shook his head no, and Dan laughed. “Well, they’re on the way to the cows so let’s stop and say hello anyway.”

He turned and gestured them to follow him. “There’s a good load of chicks at the moment, I’ve spent some time with them myself. They’ll come right up to you if they think you have food.”

Marcus fell into step beside him, Arthur playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “I know you have work to do.”

“I can stand to spare a few minutes for the Chancellor,” grinned Dan. “The horses won’t mind, and I was due for a break anyway. Like I said, it’s smelly work.”

He led them through the horse barn and beyond, to the sheltered side of the yard where a large tree shaded the poultry yard. It was expansive, housing a pond for the ducks and two sheds. Hens and their chicks roamed the grassy areas, and by the pond he could see some swimming lessons going on while other ducklings splashed in the shallows under their mothers’ careful watch. Dan grabbed a pail before swinging the gate open and ushering them in. He clucked his tongue a few times and spread a small amount of crushed grain, bringing two or three hens and their chicks to their feet. They pecked at the dusty yard, and Marcus slid Arthur down to the ground and got down on one knee beside him. 

«See the chickens? There’s a red one and a black one and a white one,» he said, pointing at each as he named the colours. 

Arthur pointed at the little yellow chicks hovering near their mothers. “Baby?”

«That’s right, those are the babies. Do you want to see if we can feed them?» 

Arthur looked unconvinced, but Marcus turned to Dan who was holding out the pail. Marcus raised his brows, and Dan shrugged.

“I’ve picked up a bit here and there. If you cup your hand they’ll come right up to you.”

“I’m impressed,” he said, scooping up a modest handful. Resources were precious, and it wouldn’t do to waste them on a lark. “Most people don’t bother.”

“Well,” the other man said somewhat gruffly, rubbing at his neck with his free hand, “Gotta make a life here, don’t we? Doesn’t make sense to be stubborn about who we share it with.”

Marcus smiled as he lowered his hand toward a group of chicks, who scuttled away. “I’m relieved to see I’m not the only one who feels that way. Though I suppose I wouldn’t have been elected if I was.” 

One brave chick stepped forward, tilting its head this way and that, clearly debating the risk of the unknown versus the reward of some extra grain. Cautiously, it made its way to his hand, taking a few steps back when he let some fall to the ground through his fingers. It pecked at the ground, then tentatively took a bite from his hand. Within a few seconds there were two, three, six more chicks eating out of his hand, each tiny peck tickling at his palm. He grinned at Arthur, who was watching the process transfixed. He squatted down, reaching a finger out to touch one. It jumped away with a flutter of downy yellow wings, and Arthur fell onto his bottom in surprise. He looked up at Marcus with wide eyes, and Marcus laughed. 

«Here,» he said, scattering the last of the grain before gently trapping one of the chicks in his fingers. Cupping it with two hands, he offered it to the boy. «Gentle, now.» 

Arthur nodded. “Baby,” he said, and hesitantly touched the chick’s head, quickly drawing his hand back. When nothing happened, he looked at Marcus with a broad smile, and his father nodded. He reached out again and stroked the chick’s head with one small finger. “Peep peep,” he said to the chick, who cocked its head to look at him with one bright eye.

Dan coughed, and Marcus looked up. “Time to go?”

The other man nodded apologetically. “We probably should, if we want to catch Gerry before he breaks for lunch.” He turned to Arthur. “Ready to see some cows?”

Arthur nodded, hurriedly getting to his feet and running to the gate, grabbing the wire and rattling it in an attempt to open the barrier. 

Dan laughed, and Marcus smiled. “He might be a little eager. He’s been waiting very patiently all morning.”

“Understandable,” he said, as he shooed the hens away from his pail and made his way over. “Look here, little man, you’re going to have to wait for us old folks to catch up.” He waited until Marcus had snagged the boy and dusted the seat of his trousers before reaching over the top to unlatch the gate. 

Dan led them through the barnyard and into the next building. The air was thick with the smell of straw, animals, and dung. At first Marcus couldn’t see anything, the transition from bright to dark blinding him temporarily. 

“I’m going to find Gerry, back in a lick,” said their guide, and then he was gone.

“Papa,” the boy whimpered, using his hands to find his father’s face, and Marcus winced as he accidentally stuck a finger in his eye. 

«It’s just a little dark. We’ll be able to see soon. Look,» he said, pointing to a little form nearby. «Do you see what I see?»

Arthur turned his head in the direction Marcus was pointing, blinked a few times, and stiffened slightly in his arms. «Cow!» He said loudly, and Marcus laughed.

«That’s right, cow!» Able to see a little better now, he carefully made his way to the little stall where a calf rested against the fence, drowsing. He crouched down, cursing internally as his knees popped, and set Arthur in front of him.

The boy leaned forward, inspecting the beast behind the wooden fence. It was pale brown, with a deep black nose and eyes half closed that were framed with long black lashes. The ear not pressed against the fence twitched slightly, and it grunted softly when Arthur put his hand through the slat and placed a hand flat on its face. He rubbed up and down gently, and the calf leaned into his touch. He turned to Marcus with a smile. “Baby. Sssssss,” he said, holding a finger to his lips.

“I see you’ve found Haddie,” came a voice from their right, and they both looked up to find a burly red-headed man standing over them, Dan just behind. Arthur withdrew his hand from the fence and stepped closer to Marcus, who had to reach down to keep his balance. 

“You must be Gerry,” he said, and looked at the hand he’d just placed on the barn floor. “I’d offer to shake, but I’m not sure you want to touch me now.”

Dan and Gerry laughed, and the latter offered his hand to Marcus, who took it and found himself being unexpectedly pulled to his feet. “We don’t mind a bit of filth around here. There’s a pump out back for washing up, you might as well just accept you’re going to need it.” 

The two men shook, and Dan offered his hand in turn. “It was nice to meet you, sir, but I should get going. Stalls wait for no man.”

Marcus took his hand gladly. “Thank you,” he said, “You’ve been incredibly kind and helpful.”

Dan waved away the compliment. “Just doing my bit.” He bent down and offered his hand to Arthur, who shrank back behind Marcus’s leg. “Not a shaking man, are we? How about this?” He offered his fist instead, and Arthur bumped it shyly with his own. He hid his face as the older men chuckled around him, and with a last goodbye Dan made his way back the way they’d come.

Marcus turned back to the calf. “She’s a beauty. Are we able to get closer?”

“I can do better than that,” said Gerry. He opened the gate and Haddie scrambled at the loss of her support. She gained her feet somewhat clumsily and stumbled when she shook her head, nearly falling over. 

Arthur laughed and clapped his hands. «Cow!» he said again, and Marcus wondered if he’d be hearing anything else for the foreseeable future.

The bigger man pet the calf on the head and motioned them to come in. The straw was new and clean, some of it stuck to the side of the small heifer who blinked up at them with the biggest eyes Marcus had ever seen. 

Despite the difference in size, Arthur seemed fearless when it came to this animal, the knowledge perhaps rooted in his little mind that a cow wouldn’t hurt him. Surely not a  _ baby _ cow, at least. He went straight up and looked her in the eye before petting the sides of her face with his hands. Haddie smelled at Arthur’s clothing before bringing her head up to his face and licking his cheek like an overgrown dog. The boy shrieked and wagged a hand at her, “No no no!” he exclaimed, then looked around as if noticing something for the first time. 

“Mama?” he asked.

Gerry shot Marcus a glance and gave a quick shake of his head, and understanding swept over him. They’d lost a heifer to a difficult birth a few days before. This must be the calf. He licked his lips, squatting down beside his son and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Her mama died, Arthur. She’s all gone. No mama for Haddie.”

Arthur looked at Marcus and his brow furrowed. “No mama?”

He shook his head. “No mama.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, and stepped away from Marcus’s grasp. He hesitated slightly, then threw his arms around the calf’s neck. She backed up a couple of steps in surprise but allowed the boy to pet and nuzzle her as he began chattering, about what Marcus could only guess. But he had his suspicions. 

“How are you feeding her?” Marcus wondered. 

The other man laughed shortly. “Same way you’re feeding yours, I expect.” When Marcus tilted his head, the man shrugged. “We’ve got a ringer.”

Then Gerry began talking about the operation they had going, and Marcus listened intently, one eye on the boy bonding with his new friend. While this was just a leisurely visit, it was nice to connect with the people on the ground instead of just reading the endless reports that crossed his desk. He heard about the numbers and the rat problems and how much their herd had grown this year, about animal attacks and what they were hoping to achieve in terms of protection. It was fascinating to listen to someone so passionate about  _ cows _ , of all things, and he wondered if maybe this wouldn’t be Arthur in another twenty years. 

More time must have passed than he’d thought, because when next he looked, Arthur was using Haddie as a pillow. The calf had found herself a piece of stall to lean against and was lying with her long legs tucked under her, neck bent at an angle that made Marcus cringe. Arthur had his head on her chest, rising and falling with every breath the creature took, and had one hand buried in the hair at her neck. He wasn’t asleep, but he was nearly there, blinking slowly in time with the calf’s breathing.

“Looks like someone’s worn out,” Gerry commented, and Marcus laughed softly.

“I guess this was a pretty big morning for him, and we’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you,” he said as he picked up his sleepy son. “This was probably the best morning he can remember.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Chancellor. Come by anytime. Looks like these two might need each other.”

Marcus smiled tightly and nodded. “You might be right. I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked toward the far end of the barn. “You were saying something about a pump?”

“Of course, just through the door and to your right.” They said their goodbyes and Marcus found himself trying to wash his and a sleepy toddler’s hands at a cold pump. The water splashed against the ground and back up at them, hitting Arthur in the face and making Marcus grateful his boots were waterproof.

When they were done he hefted Arthur back up and began making his way back through the way they’d come, heading for the lake where hopefully Abby and the baby would be waiting for them. The boy rested his head against his father’s shoulder and played with the neckline of his shirt as he walked. Marcus felt his heart swell once more with love for this child and he wondered if that feeling would ever fade. He knew there would be times in the future when he would be exasperated and angry and frustrated- knew that from experience through mentoring some of Skaikru’s younger generation- but with them he didn’t have the extra beat in his heart that went along with a small hand toying with the hair at the back of his neck, or being patted awake in the mornings to the sound of a little voice calling him Papa.

He hoped it never went away. He hoped this is what it meant to be a parent, to love someone with your whole self in a way that words couldn’t describe. He thought he’d reached the pinnacle of loving with Abby, sure there was no way he could love deeper or broader than he loved her. Then these children, these  _ babies _ , had come into his-  _ their _ \- care, and no matter how long and rocky the road ahead of him might be he could no longer imagine a world without this love. Arthur sighed against his neck, and he rubbed a hand over the boy’s back.

«Tired?» he asked gently. The boy shook his head slightly as he yawned, and Marcus smiled to himself. Two months together and this was already an old game between them. «Well don’t be too tired, we’re going to see Abby and Rosalie for lunch.»

The boy lifted his head slightly. “Mama?”

Marcus’s steps slowed for a moment. «We’re going to see Abby,» he said carefully. Arthur nodded and put his head back down, and Marcus sped up again, mind and heart racing. Had he just called Abby ‘Mama’? Or was he confused? He hoped it was the former, but wasn’t sure if it was right to tell Abby about it just in case it was the latter. He wrestled with the decision for the rest of their trip through the settlement.

In the end, he didn’t have to make a decision at all. 

As they approached the blanket Abby was spreading in the grass, she came to greet them. “There you are! That was a short trip, we just got here,” she said, nodding to the blanket and Rosalie in her basket.

When he heard her voice, Arthur looked up and leaned his arms out to her. “Mama,” he said drowsily.

Abby took him automatically, staring at Marcus as the boy made himself comfortable, throwing an arm over her shoulder and nuzzling into the side of her neck. 

“What was that, sweetie?” she said shakily, not sure if she’d heard right, not wanting to get her hopes up that she’d finally earned the sweetest title she’d ever wear.

Arthur patted the side of her face. “Mama,” he mumbled sleepily, and the tears that had gathered in her eyes began to escape. She wrapped her arms around him and sank to the ground, smoothing back his unruly curls and rocking him gently against her breast, whispering to his dozing form everything that was coming into her head; how sweet and good he was, how she would be the best mother she could be to him, how she would protect him and love him and keep him from harm. The words flowed as freely as the tears, until a burst of noise nearby had her looking up.

“Oh, the baby!” she gasped, looking torn between moving the one in her arms and going to the one who lay in her basket.

Marcus wiped at his face with one hand and put the other on her shoulder, bending to place a kiss on her head. "Stay here," he murmured. "I'll take care of it, Mama."

**Author's Note:**

> "...and so it laid  
> Its head upon the shrine of such pure joys,  
> And, laughing, slept. And while it slept, the tears  
> Of the sweet mother fell upon its cheek,—  
> Tears such as fall from April skies, and bring  
> The sunlight after."
> 
> Mother and Child, William Gilmore Simms.


End file.
